


good morning, sunshine

by Shinyshinx



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cuties, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Pointless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinyshinx/pseuds/Shinyshinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's nothing better than waking up entangled in the arms of the one you love most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good morning, sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> so i don't actually want to finish this but i hate it less now and figured i might as well post it. otp babies. roughly based off the fanfic giving in by artificial starlight. enjoy.

Sometime early in the morning, with the sky only just beginning to lighten, a pair of purple-blue eyes opened groggily. These eyes belonged to one of the many nations; each personified according to each individual characteristics of the countries. This particular nation happened to be the second-largest, though no one would guess by looking at him. His name was Matthew Williams; or, simply Canada, as the few people that acknowledge his existence referred to him as. He was rather frail-looking and small for a country-especially when compared to the other lying next to him. His tiny appearance was misleading, however, as he could defiantly handle himself in a fight (or a war, but being a peaceful nation, he tried to avoid them unless it was absolutely necessary to get involved).  He let out low groans of protest at his awakening. Why couldn’t he sleep in? He could just fall back asleep if he wanted to-it wouldn’t have taken much effort-but obviously if he was awake now, it was for a reason. He was one to believe those types of things.  
With a large yawn, the boyish country rolled over to face the nation next to him. This one, in comparison, seemed to be his polar opposite, both in looks and personality; His sheer size was intimidating to everyone except for the very, very stupid (Such as a few enemies we won’t name for the sake of decency ~~America~~ ); His hair, rather than the dirty, darkish blonde of Matthew’s, was as white as the snow dusting the ground outside; and the idea of war and hostility didn’t faze him in the slightest-in fact, he seemed to flourish in it. However, there were many similarities as well, varying from their eye color (though the other’s seemed tinted red rather than blue) to their love for cute things. And there love for each other, of course. Matthew smiled a little at the sight of the other, whom, at the loss of his snuggling partner, had taken to hugging the pillow instead.  
The sight was cute-but Canada didn’t want to sit and lay awake for hours, at least not by himself. He didn’t want to wake him up, really; every attempt he made ended in hesitation. Was he even strong enough to move him? But the promise of a few kisses was also tempting too (when there was someone to provide it, Matthew became quite the attention hog, seeing as he never really got much to start with). Finally, the nation settled on lightly blowing on the other’s face until he began to stir. “Good morning,” He whispered, smiling considerately brightly at the other nation (who hated mornings just as much as he did himself). The big Russian blinked several times before giving a lazy smile of his own. “Morning, Matvey.” The foreign spin on his name would always be something Matthew adored. “What time is it?”  
His heavy accent would’ve been hard to understand if you didn’t hear it every day, which Matthew did, along with three others. He personally felt lucky and filled with pride that he got to be with such a wonderful nation. Especially seeing as the Russian could’ve been with a much more experienced and older and just plain better nation if he’d wanted to. China, Belarus (though that thought was terrifying), anyone really. And instead he fell in love with the quiet little country no one took the time to notice. It gave Canada chills. “Mm…Early?” The boy gave the older nation’s (rather large) nose a playful poke, blinking away some of his own drowsiness. “I just wanted you to talk to me.” To emphasis this point, he snuggled up against the Russian’s bare chest, head tucked under the other’s chin. The other blinked and chuckled a little, running a lazy hand through Matthew’s hair, and thus getting a happy hum in response. “Talking to me can wait ‘till later, da?”  
“But we’re both already awake.” Canada argued, cuddling up to him with the gusto of a cat. “Humor me, Ivan.” The order had absolutely nothing behind it, seeing as the voice saying it never rose above the faintest of whispers. But Ivan let out a slightly exaggerated sigh anyways, running a hand up and down the petite Canadian’s back. “If you were anyone else I would’ve snapped their spine for waking me at this hour.” True-despite going into countless wars time and time again, Russia was never a country that enjoyed waking up. To him, sleep was a blissful relief of stress and flashbacks, an escape from real life. Being pulled from that sincerity was very annoying to him.  
Matthew was used to this type of commentary from him by now, however, though things like that used to scare him senseless. He hummed again as he nuzzled Ivan sweetly. “But I’m not anyone else, so you can cope.” To this he got warm arms around his waist and a soft, sleepy “Da.” Canada smiled at his victory, giving Russia several quick light kisses along his neck and jawline. Ivan gave a hum of his own as he snuggled against his tiny nation. Brief kisses and words spoken in foreign languages were exchanged, the two countries quickly entangling each other in a mess of limbs and skin. There was a certain appeal to speaking to each other when they didn’t understand the words; it made everything sweeter, more real, somehow. Matthew had tried countless times to pick up Russian, but….it was one of those languages you have to be born speaking if you wanted it to sound like anything remotely right. Thus, his attempts always ended in Ivan giggling and commenting on how adorable he was. On the other hand, Russia had no desire to learn French; just hearing the unfamiliar words spoken quietly into his ear was more than enough for him.  
Matthew whispered a few more sweet nothings to Ivan before moving to sit up-taking the majority of the covers with him. Ivan gave a displeased grunt at the sudden cold. “Hey, why’d you take the covers, подсолнечник?” The little Canadian moved to sit on Ivan’s hips, who in turn rolled onto his back so he could do what he wanted. “I wanted to look at you better…” He gave the bigger nation a shy smile, adjusting until he was comfortably settled on top of the other country. “You’re just really pretty.” Maybe ‘pretty’ wasn't the perfect word, but it worked for the time being. Ivan chuckled softly at this and just looked at him, waiting until he was done with whatever he was doing (as the answer didn’t really clarify much). Canada stared intently at his lover’s bare chest; the many scars and discolorations all fascinating and beautiful. He was pretty sure he could name exactly where each one came from. A light, gentle hand wandered idly along his chest, outlining each imperfection with a gossamer touch. A sweet smile lit his face as he did this. He’d heard each story Ivan told him from where these came from…..not a single had been pleasant, so he should’ve been horrified by the scars; but it wasn’t like that at all. Each mark just made Russia a little bit more Ivan, a bit more him, each a piece of who he was. And for that reason, he loved them.  
As he finished his inspection of Ivan’s chest, Matthew let a hand wander upwards, along the Russian’s neck, against his cheek; finally pausing at his hair and brushing it to the side, revealing the last of the scars (on this side of him, at least). Canada couldn’t help but laugh at these. These, he knew exactly how those came to be, without Ivan telling him. A situation involving a polar bear and a plane trip, although not a recent one, still made him want to giggle; it was just such a…random thing to happen. And to Russia of all countries! The Canadian doubted there even were polar bears in Russia. And yet somehow one had ended up in the nation’s house and had attempted to eat him anyways. The bizarreness of it was just the most amusing thing to Matthew.  
Ivan had quickly figured out what he was giggling at, and had joined him, the western countries’ laughter contagious. Matthew grinned and crinkled up his nose in an absolutely adorable way before slowly laying down onto him, stretching across Ivan’s chest and smothering them both in the blankets that had managed to stay on his thin shoulders, the last few of his giggles fading quietly. He snuggled up to his lover with a few soft hums of contentment. Russia was quick to wrap his arms around the tiny country and pull him close, nuzzling into his hair and playing with it idly, his former wish for sleep forgotten. A few sloppy, opened-mouth kisses were exchanged. The messy things were more signs of affection than anything erotic; mostly just an expression of adoration. They were constantly broken so that Matthew could giggle and smile shyly, and sometimes his curl got caught in the mess and they would have to part to laugh and keep it from getting tugged by accident.  
The two laid there for hours, cuddling and humming like they had not a single care in the world. Thoughts of actually getting ready for work were pushed aside; even countries were allowed to have their lazy days, and this day defiantly qualified as such. Finally Ivan’s stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear and sent them into another fit of laughter. “C’mon, we’ll go make breakfast.” Matthew grinned and tugged lightly on the Russian’s arm before giving him his best puppy face. “Pancakes?”   
Russia let out a dramatic fake groan, to which Matthew responded with a “Hey, you never seem to complain when you eat them!” That’s because the Canadian’s cooking was fantastic, but Ivan couldn’t help but give the smaller country grief over his undying love for pancakes. How did he never manage to get sick of them? “We eat them all the time! Can’t we have something else for once?” He grinned as he spoke, making it clear he wasn’t serious. Matthew gave his best pouting face before letting out the saddest sigh he could muster. “But I want pancakes….” He had such a dejected expression, Ivan almost thought the Canadian thought he wasn’t teasing. He planted a kiss on the short country’s lips and gave him a quick nuzzle. “Dah, I suppose we can have pancakes if you want.”  
Canada’s face brightened considerably and he smirked. “Sucker.” That face had worked on both Ivan and Alfred countless times before. The two nations got up, not bothering to put on any more clothes than the boxers they’d slept in (save for Ivan, who nabbed his scarf), walking down the stairs hand in hand. For a place in the middle of Siberia, Ivan’s house managed to stay surprisingly warm; the duo was completely comfortable, not too cold or too hot. It seemed the Baltic Trio must’ve caught the lazy mood as well, for they were nowhere to be found. Oh well. Canada rather liked talking to Lithuania. Hopefully the smell of food would wake them up.


End file.
